


Fewer of Us

by comatosc



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Death by Asphyxiation, Drabble, Just Sad Lance Doing Sad Things, Langst™, No Timeline, Video Message
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comatosc/pseuds/comatosc
Summary: Not even Blue, the most constant and relaxing presence in his mind, seemed to exist anymore. Her usual hum of energy had diminished into more quiet and Lance told himself that this was insane.There was no way this was actually happening.





	1. pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY LANGSTING

Lance was startled awake so suddenly, he was sure he was having a heart attack from the way his chest constricted painfully and his lungs burned. There was a flash of panic and he struggled, squirmed, unsure of how to gain his bearings until he closed his white-knuckled fists over his seat belt. And thank _God_ , he was just buckled into his lion, and everything was  
  
  
Dark.  
  
  
There were no illuminating blue screens, or even blaring red alarms. He could just see blackness ahead of him, maybe a few white lights here and there, and he realized with startling clarity that he was staring into space. Galaxy space, not unoccupied space (though most of it was very _much_ unoccupied), and he swallowed over the lump in his throat because not only was it terrifying, but it was empty.

 

And he was completely, irrevocably, alone.  

 

He slowly recovered his most recent memories leading up to that very moment, and almost laughed out loud at the remains it left him with. He’d been in Voltron. He’d been fighting. For his life, he dare say, because the robeast they’d been faced with had a remarkably good handle on pure, unadulterated electricity. It flared like the purple energy he knew that druid’s could produce, and hit them so hard that even now Lance could still feel the residual tingle in his veins. A indirect hit shut all their systems down. A direct hit separated them completely.

 

He didn’t know where he was now, but he definitely wasn’t anywhere near The Castle of Lions. 

  
His next instinct was to try the comms. He’d only been vaguely aware of the static dancing around his helmet up to that point, but now it was a vivid reminder that no one was there. He tried anyways, a small ‘hello?’ into virtually nothing, but his voice didn’t exactly work. It fell flat. Useless.

  
  
Lance probably hadn’t had anything to drink for at least the past 16 hours.

  
  
One more attempt, “He-” He rubbed his throat, feeling raw, “Hello?”

  
  
He felt better after trying again, but he was only met with more static. More empty comms. Not even Blue, the most constant and relaxing presence in his mind, seemed to exist anymore. Her usual hum of energy had diminished into more quiet and Lance told himself that this was insane.

  
  
There was no way this was actually happening.

  
  
And then he started to see dots in his vision. Blotchy, black, floating in his peripheral and making his head pound. He didn’t realize how heavily he’d been breathing until the reality of the symptoms hit him right in the face (literally).

  
  
He was running out of oxygen.

  
  
Sure, the lions had tons of it, and his suit had an extra supply for outside expeditions, but he’d apparently been out so long that he’d expended even that, too. His resources and ability to think clearly were beginning to dissipate and Lance clutched at his head, his rationality waning, and a few residual tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes.

  
  
He had to think of his options. Use them. But he had none.

  
  
“I don’t know what to do,” he said to no one, “I don’t know how to fix Blue.”

  
_  
__And I don’t know how to save myself_.

  
  
He unbuckled himself first, to help decrease the pressure that gave the impression that it was crushing his ribs, and thumped hard on the paneling in front of him. He landed with a small _‘oof’_ and re-weighed his options while slumped over Blue’s controls.

  
Deep space. No power. Unresponsive lion. Why was his head buzzing?

  
  
The static. The static!

  
  
His suit, apparently, had enough juice to keep his helmet running. He let out a relieved sigh as if that one thing would save his life, problem solved, when it was just an observation. Just one.

  
  
Lance removed it and there was somehow less air outside of it, and there was a nausea building in his gut that was almost too strong to ignore. He sat back in his chair, positioned it across from him, and tapped the button just beside the visor. It glowed a fluorescent, comforting blue and he slumped back. A lazy smile warped his features and he’d be damned if this wasn’t going to be the most dramatic video message out there. Couldn’t have the folks worrying that his last moments weren’t full of humor, right?

  
  
“Hey, it’s Lance. I sure hope this is recording.”


	2. pt.2

“I’d rather let all you guys know in person if I was going to kick the bucket, but none of you are really here right now and time is running short. I’ve been unconscious for God knows how long and I’m about two seconds from vomiting whatever’s in my stomach right now. Space goop, maybe. I don’t think it was Hunk that made dinner last time I was in the castle.

  
  
... _ Last time _ . Sounds so definitive, doesn’t it? Because it was, it really really was, the last time. I kind of regret not doing a little more exploring. The castle it was...it  _ is _ massive. Holy cow. Altean tech sure is impressive, Allura. Like Shiro said, it had to have been amazing a whole 10,000 years ago,” and he pauses because he won’t let himself cry. Not when they’ll see this- and they  _ will _ because he’ll leave it with Blue. He’ll leave everything with her and hope they find her before the Galra do. He can’t help the big, watery thing his eyes do, though. 

  
  
“There’s no oxygen here. No planets. There’s some pretty space auroras but that’s...that’s it. Blue’s shut down. Recovering, I think. It’d suck if it was permanent- imagine me, the weak link, being the reason you guys couldn’t form Voltron anymore. You can always replace a paladin. We’re proof, aren’t we? But Blue? She’s special. There’s no other space cat like her,” he placed one hand on the arm of his chair, fingers fluttering as if Blue had any current capacity to feel the affection he radiated towards their bond. 

  
  
“I don’t know how to keep Blue safe like this. She can’t put up her particle barrier. I can’t steer her in any right direction, if there even  _ is _ one. But I…” He sat up straighter, leaning himself towards the helmet’s visor while he steeled himself for his own statement, “I don’t want her to come to with a corpse in her cockpit. That’d really suck, wouldn’t it? It’d be stupidly morbid. I got to at least keep her from that.

  
  
So I’ve made a pretty gutsy decision. Suffocating in space can’t be any worse than suffocating in a giant robotic cat, right? Except I’ll be spiraling across stars and probably panicking the whole way, but it’s-” his throat tightened. It isn’t,  _ it isn’t _ , “it’s okay. I have to normalize death when I’m fighting a bunch of purple, blood-thirsty aliens then want nothing but our heads on sticks, right? It’s only natural,” he kicked back again, propped his ankles up on the controls and thought long and hard about how he wanted to end the recording. It couldn’t get more depressing than it was, and silence in itself was probably more unnerving.

  
  
He didn’t want them all to see him sitting there, thinking about his own death. 

  
  
His eyes flickered forwards again, “I’m sorry. I wish I knew a way out of this. I wish I wasn’t sitting here, doing nothing but contemplating the best way to go. There’s probably a solution here, somewhere, and I’m just not seeing it. I’m not really the brightest of the bunch, am I?”

  
  
Lance sidled forward in his seat, grabbed the helmet in clammy hands, and hit the button again. The visor went dead. End of video. He propped it under his seat while he fumbled for a latch behind his chair. An emergency eject. He just had to hope that the helmet wouldn’t get sucked out into space with him. But now he was suddenly on his own again, not talking and hardly breathing, and his shoulders trembled with belated sobs. 

  
  
They shook him violently and tears ran messily down his cheeks. He distinctly recognized that he felt miserable. Lonely. His fingers closed around the latch and he fought with himself for the strength to pull and release it. He should have said more. Should have thanked them for tolerating him and whatever awful jokes he threw at them. He should have let them know how much he appreciated them- and how he considered all of them his second, less rowdy, family. 

  
  
And his arm slotted forward. The latch released. There was the hiss of vanishing air and panic rising in his throat and-

  
  
Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a dream abt lance ejecting himself into space for the sake of voltron and idk i just gave it some context and threw it together to make a little drabble and its not bad for smth i typed up during class :'))


End file.
